Out of Time
by Iron Robin
Summary: Quinn wanted nothing more than to spend her day going about her daily routines. But when she's framed for a crime she didn't commit, she's sucked into a whirlwind of danger and confusion with the S.P.D. Power Rangers being at the eye of the storm. Will a girl who's learned to never fully trust someone be able to bring herself to believe in people who took everything from her?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone! Iron Robin, here. I know I have a bajillion other stories that are all currently on hiatus, but when I get inspired, I have to write. And what can I say? I've loved Power Rangers for years. I even have an old work of fanfiction about the S.P.D. universe. Now I won't torture you by uploading that fanfiction because I wrote it when I was way younger than I am now, but I _will_ tweak it exponentially, making it readable and, hopefully, enjoyable.**

 **I make no promises when it comes to actually completing this story in a timely manner, so I'm giving you a fair warning. Spring semester's going to be a beast.**

 **But without further ado! I don't own Power Rangers or S.P.D. or any of these characters except for Quinn, but here we go! Let me know what you think. Come on, don't be shy. ;)**

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Chapter 1

I've been living on the streets for as long as I can remember, moving from city to city whenever my heart desired. I never expected pity or sympathy, though that's what I received for the vast majority of my life. It's hard to look at a skinny, ragged eight-year-old girl without feeling sorry for her. I understand that, but I never asked for it, and as I grew older, I stopped getting those soft, teary-eyed looks. Instead, I had to brace myself for glares of disgust and even the occasional "Watch it, street rat!", but that's okay. The looks I got in my childhood always made me uncomfortable.

After all, the streets are my home. Why should people feel bad for me when I'm living the way I want to? Granted, when I was younger I occasionally allowed myself to dream about having a real house with a real family, but it didn't take long for me to realize that those dreams were nothing more than the fantasies of a lonely little girl.

So I learned to accept my subpar living conditions and I made the best of them. When I reached the age of thirteen people started to hire me for small tasks here and there. Sure, the salaries for those jobs were barely enough to live on, but I never complained. It wasn't my place to complain. I was too happy to have a little pocket money to whine anyway.

Throughout my earlier teen years I remained peppy and upbeat. The streets weren't so bad, especially when I finally settled in Newtech City, which was probably just about the safest city on planet Earth. With the Space Patrol Delta base being positioned in the vicinity, I felt as safe as could be. When I was younger I even toyed with the idea of becoming a Power Ranger one day.

The thought makes me laugh out loud, drawing the attention of a few passersby. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had forgotten I was sitting on a street corner, hunched into myself to try and keep warm. My measly earnings from my job at Piggy's restaurant aren't enough to buy a fancy coat, so I was forced to settle for the threadbare piece of clothing I'm wearing now.

I still don't complain. At least that part of my childhood hasn't changed. But everything else has. I'm sure not that perky girl I used to be, and the thought of becoming a Power Ranger is hilarious enough to cause me to laugh again, though this time I merely emit a low chuckle and shake my head at myself. The Power Rangers are a joke. Sure, they protect the streets of Newtech City from alien threats, but that's the only thing they do for the very streets I, and many others, live in.

They even took the one source of comfort I used to have: Jack and Z. Everyone knew the two of them. They were like the celebrities of the alleyways. If you needed anything-food, water, coats-they had it. And they were always so full of life, offering a smile and an encouraging word to anyone who needed such things. I'm not even a year younger than them, but I looked up to them so much that it felt like betrayal-like I had lost everything I ever cared about-when they left to become Power Rangers.

I don't really want to think what my expression looks like right now, one of resentment and disappointment and sorrow. I don't necessarily hate the Power Rangers, but I'm not one to bend to their every word, either, unlike most people. This is why I generally keep my thoughts to myself. No one wants to hear my rantings.

 _Except Piggy,_ I think with a slight smile. It took me weeks to wear him down, but he eventually agreed to give me a part time job at his restaurant as long as I promised to do exactly what he told me to do and never asked questions. So far, I've held true to the bargain, though sometimes I wonder what kind of trouble he gets into with S.P.D. since he's always more than willing to join in on my raging frustrations about the Rangers.

Speaking of Piggy, I know it's time to start heading over to his restaurant. He hates it when I'm late, especially during rush hour. When I first began working for him, I hated it with a passion. It was gross and vile and every disgusting vocabulary word you can dream of. But true to my nature, I never complained, and eventually I came to grow used to the less than perfect conditions of Piggy's restaurant. I even strike up conversations with a few of his regulars from time to time, much to his chagrin. But I love some of his customers. They may be mostly lowlife criminals, but some of them are surprisingly easy to talk to, and they seem to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy theirs.

I shake off my distracting thoughts with a shiver, pushing myself to my feet while clamping my jaw shut to avoid chattering teeth. As soon as I save up enough money, I am definitely buying myself a new winter coat. I desperately miss the summer months. You would think that with all of its fancy technology, Newtech City could try and regulate its climate. Younger me would have wanted to suggest such an idea to S.P.D. as soon as she became a Ranger.

I shake my head at myself again, allowing the numbing coldness seeping into my body to take away all thoughts of the Power Rangers as I shuffle along the street towards Piggy's restaurant. I refuse to dwell on old childhood fantasies about the Rangers anymore. I _refuse._ And when I set my mind on something, I see it through to the bitter end. At least that part about my childhood hasn't changed, either, though younger me never classified anything as "bitter." She was too busy being a ridiculously happy orphan.

Resisting the urge to shake my head at myself again, I round a corner and pass through an alleyway, counting the steps I have left before making it to the area surrounding Piggy's place. It may be outdoors, but I'm looking forward to making it there since it at least provides some protection from the biting arctic winds. Piggy never lets something like questionable weather slow his business down, so neither do I.

I'm just beginning to calculate how many steps I have left when I'm suddenly crashed into from behind, the force sending me down onto my hands and knees. I let out a hiss of pain as the cold concrete bites into my bare hands, wishing I had the money for a pair of gloves as well.

"Watch it!" I snap as I push myself to my feet for the second time that day, ignoring the aching feeling slowly growing in my bruised knees. "Who do you think-"

I break off when I see who bumped into me. I may be tough as nails in some areas, but even I can't resist a pretty face. And the young man who knocked me off my feet could definitely be identified as "pretty."

"My sincerest apologies, miss!" he says, his warm brown eyes and wavy golden hair catching me off guard as much as his polite words. He reaches for me, dusting off and straightening my pathetic jacket as he asks, "Are you all right?"

He may be downright gorgeous, but I hate it when people touch me. Spending enough time on the streets will do that to a girl who's rather gorgeous herself, though I hate dwelling on the thought. I'd rather replace my deep red hair, emerald green eyes, and slim figure with the looks of a wart-covered witch if it kept people from noticing me.

"I'm fine," I answer, the biting tone in my voice remaining in place as I shove him away from me. "Watch where you're going next time."

He blinks once as if he's surprised at the ire in my tone, but thankfully, he doesn't try to touch me again. "I apologize again, madam. I didn't mean to run into you. Perhaps you would allow me to make it up to you at a later date?" he says, glancing over his shoulder as if he's in a hurry, which I suppose he is or he wouldn't have crashed into me like he did.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I mumble, crossing my arms against my chest as I focus my gaze on the ground, refusing to meet the deepest brown eyes I've ever seen for fear of losing the protective walls I've put around my emotions.

I don't know how he reacts to my words other than him saying, "Then I'll return here in two hours' time to apologize further for my blatantly ill manners."

I open my mouth and look up to tell him that I hadn't been serious in my "yeah, sure, whatever," but he's already moving around me and down the alley, disappearing around the corner of a building.

Shaking my head for perhaps the tenth time that day, I tuck my coat around my waist as best as I can and start down the alley again, rubbing my stinging hands together to try and warm them, already racking my brain for anything to help soothe my aching knees.

"I saw her go this way, guys. Let's move!"

I freeze in my tracks at the painfully familiar voice, trying to ignore the sounds of many sets of boots approaching me, hoping they ignore me as well. But no such luck.

"Excuse me, but did you see a woman run through here?"

He's talking to me. I know he is. And there's no way around it, so I take a calming breath and turn to face the voice I recognized as Jack's. "No, I didn't. But I _do_ see a traitor."

Jack reels back, and I don't know if it's because of recognition or if it's because of the fire in my voice. Maybe it's both. "Quinn?"

Before I can snap out a retort, Z pushes past Jack. Her expression is as surprised as his, though her lips quickly lift in an excited smile. "Quinn! Wow, it's been so long. How've you-"

"You can cut the chatter," I interrupt, keeping my barriers firmly in place. Emotions have no place here. At least not in front of a bunch of strangers who, judging by their uniforms, are the three other Power Rangers. "I'm kind of busy right now, and I didn't see any woman run through here, so you can get on with your investigation and leave me alone." _Leave me alone like you did months ago._

One of the others, the green ranger, steps up and removes one of his gloves, waving his hand in front of me. "She's telling the truth."

I take a step back, my eyes widening slightly before I can stop them. What did he just do? Did he read my mind? And I thought people _physically_ touching me was bad.

I'm considering turning and running like heck when Jack steps forward, his expression serious as he turns to the green ranger. "Of course she's telling the truth, Bridge. And next time, ask me before you read a person's aura."

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. I don't know what reading someone's aura means, but I didn't hear anything about mind reading in that sentence, and I'll take what reassurances I can get.

"And just _how_ do you know she was telling the truth before Bridge confirmed it?" the blue ranger asks, and I can tell by his tone that he's been giving Jack a run for his money. The thought probably shouldn't make me feel as pleased as it does, but I'm still angry.

"Because we know her," Z puts in before Jack can speak. "This is Quinn. She's-"

"Not interested in getting involved in S.P.D. business," I interrupt again, refusing to have my life story told to a bunch of strangers. Sure, Jack and Z will probably tell them all about me later, but I would rather not be present when they do so.

"We don't really have time for this," the pink ranger says, looking up from where she's been fiddling with one of her blonde curls. "The longer we stand here, the more time we give that crook to get away."

"Right," Jack says, looking at me reluctantly before turning back to the others. "Sky and Syd? You circle back around. Try to cut off the criminal. Bridge, Z, and I will continue down this alley."

I can tell by the way he talks that he's the leader, and I must be right because his team nods and obeys his orders without question. Then again, his uniform _does_ have hints of red, and everyone knows the red ranger is the one in charge. I almost forgot that little detail, but I try not to think about the Rangers much these days. Although by the looks of it, I'm not going to have that luxury anymore.

Before running off, the green ranger, Bridge, turns to me. "Hey, look, I'm sorry I scared you with the whole reading your aura thing. But if you don't mind me saying, you're really quite fascinating. I-"

"Bridge!" Z cuts him off, jerking her head in the direction Jack wanted her and Bridge to go. "We've got to move. Leave the poor girl alone."

I stiffen, resenting being called a "poor girl," but Bridge nods, apologizes to me again, and takes off down the alley after Jack, Z close on his heels. I don't know if I'm glad that they left without another word to me or if I wish they had stuck around longer.

After a moment of thought, I wrinkle my nose and think, _I'm definitely glad._

Using my weird ability that, in part, allows me to always know what time it is, I let out a low growl and start moving in the direction I was going before the Power Rangers stopped me. I'm definitely late now. Piggy's not going to like that, and I really can't afford to have my pay docked any more this month.

Unfortunately, it seems more money is going to be subtracted from my already small pay, because I barely make it to the end of the alley when I'm once again stopped by the Power Rangers.

"You're certain you didn't see anyone run through here earlier," the blue ranger-Sky, I assume-demands, taking one too many steps too close to me.

I step back involuntarily, lifting my chin in silent defiance. Technically, I had seen _someone_ run through, but the Rangers had asked about a woman, and the young man who had bumped into me was definitely not a woman. At least I hope he wasn't. You never can tell with aliens. Besides, I don't want to tell the Rangers anything. Why should I?

"What Sky _means_ to say is," the pink ranger, Syd, intercedes, putting her arm out to stop Sky from coming any closer. Even though I'm not a fan of the Rangers, I'm grateful for that. "We lost the trail of the woman we were chasing and we were hoping you could tell us if you saw anything."

"I already told you I didn't see anyone," I say with a brief roll of my eyes. "Now would you please leave me alone? I have work to do."

"Well, maybe we could catch up later," Jack suggests, and I have to strengthen my walls to avoid reacting to the hope in his eyes. "After we catch this crook, I mean."

"Yeah, we should," Z agrees, and I have to thicken my barriers even further to ignore the eagerness in her smile. "I've missed…"

She trails off when Bridge starts beeping. Or when a device on his belt starts beeping that is. I want to ask what the machine does, but I'm almost afraid to judging by the frowns on all of the Rangers' faces.

"Quinn…" Jack starts, his voice suddenly wary. "What did you do?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask indignantly as Bridge steps toward me, pulling out the beeping device and waving it up and down my person. I resist the urge to shove him away, knowing how strict S.P.D. is. I don't want to be charged with assaulting an officer, though a sinking feeling in my gut makes me wonder if I'm about to be charged with much worse.

"Kat gave us this device to use if we couldn't catch the criminal," Bridge explains. He appears calm, but I can see a worried crease in between his eyebrows. "It should help us locate the item she stole."

I don't bother to ask who this "Kat" person is since I'm too busy trying to calm my whirling thoughts. I sincerely doubt Bridge's device would be beeping if it hadn't located the stolen item. And if it's beeping while it's near me…

I feel myself sway, shock numbing my brain even more than the cold does. "I didn't steal anything," I say quickly, feeling my breath starting to come a bit faster, causing white clouds of frosty air to appear in front of my mouth. "I swear. I've never stolen anything in my life."

While others who lived on the streets like I did were willing to steal this way and that, I had always refused to break the law. I wanted-and I still want-to earn what little bit I have, fair and square.

I stand stock still. The silence in the air is as thick as ice as Bridge finishes his investigation, letting out a none-too-reassuring sigh as he reaches into one of my coat's pockets and pulls out a small cube-shaped device. It's silver and sleek, but most of all, I've never seen it before.

"I don't know what that is," I insist, taking a step back from Bridge and the others, cringing slightly as they all take a step towards me. They're not going to let me get away. "You have to believe me. I don't even know how that got in my pocket in the first place!"

"You'll forgive us if we don't believe you," Sky says in an emotionless tone, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and slapping them on my wrists before I can do anything about it. "You're under arrest for stealing S.P.D. property and lying to its officers."

"I'm not lying!" I shout. Now Jack and Z are the ones cringing. "Guys, _please._ "

I hate having to plead for mercy from my former friends, but I don't want to go to jail for something I didn't do. Heck, I don't want to go to jail at all.

"Jack?" Bridge questions, looking at me in such a way that I feel a surge of hope flash through me. Maybe he's on my side. "Do you want me to read her?"

I turn my gaze to Jack, begging him to say yes with my eyes, but he refuses to meet my gaze, and just like that, the brief feeling of hope inside me fizzles out.

"No," Jack answers, shaking his head as he turns to lead the others out of the alley and, undoubtedly, toward the S.P.D. base. "Let's take her in for questioning. _Gently._ "

No one else says anything more as Sky carefully pulls me along with him, and I don't acknowledge the pitying looks I'm receiving from Bridge and Syd. All I see is the look of disappointment on Jack's face and the look of confusion on Z's.

All of a sudden, clarity settles over me, calming my mind. Earlier today, I wasn't sure how I felt about the Rangers, but now I decide to change my opinion about being neutral toward them. I can't forgive them for what they've done to my friends, how they've changed Jack and Z so drastically.

I _hate_ the Power Rangers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, look at that! I already have a few favorites and follows. ^_^**

 **Many thanks to Adela, my first reviewer. You don't know how relieved you made me. I took a gamble bringing in an OC, because I don't usually use OCs in my fanfiction works, but I'm very glad you liked the first chapter. And I hope you, and everyone else, enjoys Chapter 2!**

 **And I don't own Sam (or Cruger) even if he's one of my favorite characters. :)**

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Chapter 2

The base can get pretty boring at times, especially when the Commander sends out the five main Rangers, forcing Omega to stay behind as backup. In this particular case, yes, Sam probably hadn't been needed. After all, how many Rangers does it take to chase down and capture one thief? But Sam likes being at the center of the action, and he would give just about anything to be on the hunt right now.

Which is probably why he paces the length of the Command Center, ignoring the occasional frustrated growl that comes out of Cruger. Sam knows he's been at it for too long, but he's itching to hear the whereabouts of the Rangers. Have they completed their mission? Did they find the thief and recover the precious stolen technology?

"Kat…" Cruger begins wearily. By his tone, Sam can tell he's trying very hard to be patient with his restless Omega Ranger. "Can you get Omega an ETA on the Rangers' return?"

For once, Sam is glad that he can't power down. If he could, the Commander would have been able to see the blush threatening to stain his cheeks. Cruger's comment confirms it. Sam's being much too impatient, and it's painfully obvious, too.

"They've just put the thief in her holding cell and they're on their way up," Kat answers, though Sam can detect a hint of something in her tone, something saying that things aren't quite right. "But it looks like-"

Sam doesn't have to hear the source of Kat's worries from Kat herself, because at that very moment, the Rangers burst into the Command Center, their voices all tripping over one another in such a fashion that Sam doesn't have any clue what any of them are saying.

"Whoa, guys, calm down. What seems to be the problem?" Sam asks, raising his own voice to be heard, but it's to no avail. The others give no indication that they can even _see_ him, let alone hear him.

"Cadets!" Cruger barks, placing his paws flat against the armrests of his chair as he firmly pushes himself to his feet.

Sam's almost jealous that with one word, the Commander draws the attention of the Rangers and forces them to quiet down. He needs to learn that trick, because apparently, being from the future isn't enough to get people to listen to him.

With the Rangers' attention now solely focused on him, Cruger says, "I would have thought successfully apprehending our thief would make you all pleased. So what seems to be the problem?"

 _That's exactly what I said!_ Sam thinks to himself, though he knows better than to voice the thought out loud. He hates being at the center of the Commander's wrath. Everyone does.

"I _am_ pleased, sir," Sky speaks up before shooting a look at Jack out of the corner of his eye. "But _Jack_ seems to think there's more to the story."

"There is," Jack says, shooting Sky the same frustrated look. "Quinn and the woman we chased were two different people."

"But Quinn could have been a handoff," Syd points out. "She could have been in on the heist, too."

"You're forgetting she was telling the truth when she said she hadn't seen a woman run by," Bridge puts in, cocking his head to one side as his eyes take on a thoughtful gleam. "Then again, I was also picking up on a lot of weird stuff from her aura. I guess I could've read her wrong."

"You didn't," Z insists, shaking her head fiercely. "I believe Quinn. If she says she didn't see anyone, she didn't see anyone."

"But that doesn't explain why she had the stolen technology," Sky says, turning his glare to Z now.

Sam stands there, his head whipping back and forth as he watches the team like a game of old school tennis. He knows he's from the future, but he doesn't think he's ever felt as lost as he does now. Fortunately, he doesn't have to reveal his confusion thanks to the Commander.

"And just _who,_ might I ask, is this Quinn you're all talking about?"

"A friend of Jack and Z's," Sky answers in a normal tone before muttering under his breath, "Which makes her being a criminal not very surprising."

 _Sky sometimes forgets everyone can hear him in the quiet Command Center,_ Sam thinks to himself with mild amusement as he watches Syd lean forward out of line to gape at Sky's rude comment.

"Hey, that was a long time ago," Z defends herself, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "Jack and I have come a long way."

"But has Quinn?" Sky asks, raising one eyebrow skeptically.

For once, neither Jack nor Z have an answer to that, and Sam can't help but feel sorry for them when they both cast their eyes down towards the floor.

"But she said she's never stolen anything before," Bridge argues, looking back and forth at his team as he speaks. "You guys heard that part, right?"

"I heard it," Syd says, shrugging once as she nods as if she knows what she heard, but she isn't sure if she believes it.

"And did you read her aura at the time?" Sky asks as he stares straight ahead. Sam's learned at this point that when Sky speaks in that way, he knows he's right.

"Well, no," Bridge admits before hurrying to say, "but-"

Cruger cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Enough. Let me see if I have this straight. You chased after the yet unidentified woman who stole our Quantum Datalyzer, lost her trail, and then found the device she stole planted on your friend?"

He directs the last part of his question at Jack, who answers in a subdued tone, "Yes, sir."

"But she insists she had nothing to do with it."

"Correct, sir."

"Have you questioned her?"

The look on Jack's face morphs into one of slight embarrassment. "Not yet, sir."

Cruger lets out a growling sigh and shakes his head. "You chose to come here and argue first, then."

There is no "yes, sir" following this statement as the Rangers _all_ bow their heads in shame. Boy is Sam really glad he wasn't chosen to go on this mission after all, though he feels a hint of guilt immediately after having the thought.

"I could question her," Syd offers, being the first one to recover from the rebuke. "Yeah, and maybe while I'm at it, I could bring her a hairbrush? Or-"

"No," the Commander interrupts, shaking his head. "I can tell you're all too close to the case at this moment in time. Omega!"

Sam snaps to attention, dragging his gaze away from the others to focus on Cruger. Maybe he shouldn't have been relieved about being left out just yet.

"You will go question the prisoner. See if you can determine whether or not she's telling the truth."

"Yes, sir," Sam says obediently, straightening and putting his feet together as he bends his right arm in the S.P.D. salute. He casts one more look at the others, noting their varying looks of frustration and disappointment before whirling on his heel and striding out of the room, heading towards the holding cells.

What he finds in the cell containing the captured crook is…well…not what he was expecting. He knows by now what kind of people Jack and Z tend to befriend. Just look at Piggy. So he's more than moderately surprised when he stops in front of the cell to see a normal looking girl sitting in the far corner. Her deep red hair is like a curtain covering her face, and Sam can tell she's less than average height even in the position she's sitting in, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her bent legs.

He blinks once to make himself focus and clears his throat to get her attention. He tries to avoid thinking any thoughts about her startlingly good looks-though he does notice a handful of endearing freckles on her nose-when she whips her head around to look at him, her eyes piercing him even through his helmet.

"What do you want?" she snaps, her eyes hardening, making the green color almost look like a true emerald capable of cutting him.

 _Okay, so she's a little less attractive when she's angry._ Sam almost wishes she would stay angry, because he finds it a lot easier to talk to her this way. "I think the better question is: what do _you_ want?"

She blinks, momentarily surprised by his question before her lips quirk upward in a wry half smile. "I want to get out of this jail cell."

Sam chuckles and shakes his head, crossing his arms against his chest. "Sorry, but that's not happening."

"Didn't think so," she mutters, releasing her hold on her raised legs in favor of rubbing her upper arms.

"Are you cold?" Sam asks with a slight frown. He knows the cells are kept a little cooler than the rest of the base, but it's still pretty close to room temperature, and she's wearing a coat. Although with closer inspection, he notes that her jacket is barely thick enough to keep a bug warm, let alone a person.

"Why do you care?" she asks with a glare.

Her gaze is so hard that Sam finds it easier to sniff and say, "I don't. And if you're going to treat me that way, maybe I'll ask Kat to make it even colder in there."

Her glare doesn't soften at the threat. If anything, it only hardens even more, making Sam wonder how he ever considered her looks lovely.

"Look, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. I'm here to interrogate you," Sam says, careful to keep his voice even and commanding. "Let's start with something easy. What's your name?"

She's silent for several moments before her glare disappears and she leans back against the wall, shrugging with the perfect air of nonchalance. "I don't give my name to people whose faces I can't see."

"Fair enough," Sam says, mirroring her casual shrug. "But that means we might be here a while, Quinn."

Quinn shoots him a look, though she doesn't seem very surprised when he knows her name. She mostly seems resigned to the fact as she asks, "And why's that?"

"I can't demorph," Sam answers, enjoying her look of confusion. "I came from the future through a time portal. The trip altered my molecules, so I'm nothing more than light. This is the solidest form I can achieve."

Quinn tilts her head, still not looking all that surprised, and the lack of that particular emotion makes Sam feel confused this time. But he chooses not to dwell on it. Instead he shakes his head to clear his thoughts and says, "But enough about me. I want to hear about you."

"I didn't steal your technology," she says with a submissive sigh, finally tearing her gaze away to focus on her knees as she absently massages them. "I don't know how to convince you that I'm telling the truth, but I am."

Sam angles his head to one side, studying Quinn in silence. He's not Bridge, so he can't read her aura to determine if she's being honest, but there's something in her tone and body language that makes it seem like she is.

"I believe you," he says, finally getting the look of surprise he had wanted as Quinn snaps her emerald green eyes back to him again. "But you need to give me something to help convince the others."

Her look of surprise transforms into one of caution as it's her turn to study him. "Like what?"

"You can help us with our investigation. Help us try to catch the real thief."

Quinn's expression is now one of repulsion, and frankly, Sam isn't at all shocked when she answers, "Why the heck would I want to do that? Your comrades _arrested_ me."

"And you still look guilty. You had the stolen technology in your pocket," Sam points out, knowing he's won this round when she lowers her heated gaze. "I can't just release you because I think you're telling the truth. You have to _prove_ that you are."

Quinn ponders his offer for what feels like a long time, but Sam knows what her answer is going to be as soon as she sighs and says with absolute reluctance, "All right. I'll help you."

Sam's glad that his helmet hides his expression as he smiles triumphantly. "Then we have a deal. You help us arrest the real thief and then you go free."

"Do I have to stay in this cell the entire time?" she asks, casting her stare around the small room with more than a little disgust in her eyes.

"For now? Yes," Sam answers, resisting the urge to laugh as she wrinkles her nose in displeasure. She's kind of...no. She's not cute when she does that. She's not. "You're going to have to let me talk to the boss about getting you different living arrangements."

"Fine," Quinn says shortly, returning her eyes to her knees once more as she starts to rub them again, though Sam notices her wince this time at the movement.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, hating the note of concern that enters his voice. He doesn't want to show any weakness around her. He doesn't want to be the subject of her icy glare again.

"Just a little bruised," she answers, thankfully not looking up as she does. "I got knocked down earlier by…" She trails off for a moment, shaking her head. "I fell down. It's nothing."

"Someone pushed you?" Sam asks, feeling a brief flare of righteous anger surge through him. Quinn may have been an insufferable girl, but she didn't deserve to be injured by some even more insufferable jerk.

"It's _nothing,_ " Quinn repeats with a little more emphasis this time, turning her glare to him again, though Sam notes how her eyes don't hold as much fire as they did before.

"I don't think the Commander will mind if I take you to the medical bay to get you patched up," Sam says, moving to open her cell's door. He knows he may get in trouble for this later, but if he's going to make her stay here, the least he can do is make her a little more comfortable.

"You're sure you want to help me?" Quinn asks, her eyes widening slightly. She shoots to her feet when he opens the door, cringing as she puts weight on her wounded knees.

If Sam had any doubts before now, seeing her in more pain than she had been letting on chases away those reservations. "Positive," he answers, moving to take her arm as he gently pulls her out into the hall. It's easy to tell himself he's holding her to cut off any chances of her escaping. After all, she may have told him she was willing to cooperate, but Sam still doesn't really trust her.

She doesn't say anything more as he takes her to the med-bay, which is a miracle in and of itself. Same doesn't think he's heard a single nice thing come out of her since he met her, so he's thankful for the silence, especially since being quiet draws less attention from various cadets making their ways through the halls of the base.

"Sit there," he orders as he steps into the medical bay, pointing at an empty cot. He's grateful when she obeys silently, though she does cast a small glare his way at being bossed around.

"Now roll up your-"

"I've got it, Blue Jay," she snaps, leaning down to pull up her pants' legs in order to expose the wounded skin.

"I have a name," Sam scoffs, not pleased with being compared to a bird that isn't even around anymore.

"Not interested," Quinn grunts, finishing her small task and leaning back on her hands, looking up at him defiantly. "Well?"

Sam is once again thankful for his helmet as he frowns at her disrespect, though all negative thoughts fly out of his mind as he surveys her injuries. The ugly purple and blue bruises almost cover the entirety of both knees, but he refuses to wince in sympathy.

"I'm assuming they don't feel broken since you've been able to diss me at every twist and turn," he says dryly, straightening and moving to the medical bay's cooler to retrieve some ice.

When he finishes this task and turns back to face Quinn, he's surprised to find her trying to cover a genuine smile with one of her hands. If he didn't know any better, he could have thought what he had said had amused her. Then again, Sam realizes he doesn't really know her at all.

"They're not broken," she replies, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared as she takes the ice, placing one bag on each knee. She shivers at the sudden coolness, and Sam once again notices how thin her coat really is. He makes a mental note to get her a better one.

"Wait, what's that?" he demands suddenly, grabbing the wrist of the hand she had accepted the ice with, twisting it carefully to expose her palm. The skin is red and scraped, and while it doesn't look as bad as her knees, it still looks painful.

"My knees took the brunt of the impact," Quinn says sharply, tearing her wrist out of his grasp with another glare, shrinking away from his touch in such a way that Sam is left wondering how many people have touched her in harsh ways. He attempts to avoid feeling another surge of righteous fury at the thought.

"At least consider washing your hands," Sam suggests, stepping back and gesturing with one arm toward one of the med-bay's sinks. "Your cell may be one of the cleanest ones on Earth, but you don't want to get an infection."

"I appreciate your concern," Quinn says with more than a hint of sarcasm, rolling her eyes briefly.

Sam stiffens, trying to keep himself from becoming infuriated. How can one girl make him feel such a wide range of emotions in less than an hour?

To avoid any other new emotions, he steps back up to her and grabs her arm, pulling her to her feet with a little less care than before, though he's far from being rough. She lets out a cry of protest, which he ignores.

"Wash your hands," he orders, dragging her over to the sink.

When she opens her mouth to argue, he cuts her off instantly. "Wash your hands before I take you back to your cell. _Please._ "

He says the last word through gritted teeth, but Quinn merely frowns and does as he says, setting the ice aside long enough to follow his orders. As soon as she finishes cleaning her scrapes, she picks the ice up and he pulls her back into the hall and towards her cell.

His plan is to push her into the room and leave without a word, but when he closes the door and turns to go, she stops him.

"What's your name?" Quinn asks, her voice soft and nearly apologetic.

Sam pauses and considers his answer without turning around. He's far from being fond of her, so he doesn't feel as if she deserves to know his real name. With only a fleeting moment of hesitation, he says, "Omega."

Without waiting for anything else she might have to say, Sam resumes his pace, striding away from her cell without so much as a backwards glance. But in his hurry to get away from the exasperating yet enticing girl, he misses hearing her quiet, "Thank you, Omega."


End file.
